


Let's Focus on What Really Matters

by zoeleigh



Series: What Help Can I Give? [2]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Illness, Reader-Insert, Recovery, Writing, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeleigh/pseuds/zoeleigh
Summary: Reader-insert is writing when they feel overcome with a sense of uselessness... Tyler is there to help and provide encouragement.





	

**Author's Note:**

> self-harm references are minimal and I don't think it should cause anyone any problems but just in case...

You sit in your designated writing spot with your notebook open on a word filled page which is staring straight back at you. Words keep pouring out of you, but none of them how you want. Each syllable is lined of suicidal wishes, and not in the hidden way you so admire in your friend Tyler’s poetry. His is subtle and perfect and yours is hideous and outright. You don’t feel like you’re worthy to call him your friend. Anytime you bring it up, joking or not, he’s always quick to dismiss you. But you know it’s pity. It’s gotta be. 

 

It seems like you sit there for hours more, turning the page every so often, trying to get your thoughts out of your head and onto a page. You’re almost too scared to read over it, you know it’ll suck. It always does. But somehow, you pluck up the courage to skim over the thick pen ink scattered on the pages. The text screams horrors back at you and you quickly shut the book you’d been working in. It’s only one in the afternoon, but thoughts about taking a nap dance through your mind and you decide to curl up on the couch enveloped by your fuzziest blanket. 

 

The thought to go to the bathroom and puke up your last bite of food or take a razor and tear at the fragile skin tied to your arm crosses your mind as you make your way to the couch. You almost yell out loud at yourself.

 

_No. No. No. No. No._

 

It’s taken a lot of work, but you’ve gone almost 3 months without so much as a purposeful scratch. So you carefully make your way into the room where your couch sits. The urges have almost completely subsided and a wall of exhaustion has overcome your tired body. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into an uneventful sleep once your swaddled in the blanket. 

 

When what you assume is a few hours later -due to the sunset trickling in through the half closed curtain by the couch- comes around, you’re awoken by a soft knock on your front door. _Shit._ Tyler was coming over tonight for pizza and cards. You don’t even try to make yourself presentable as you head to the door, knowing you’ll have to explain to Tyler either way. You leave the warm blanket wrapped around your upper half as you shuffle over to the door. He stands in front of you with a large, close to overbearing, grin on his face. It soon falters. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

You don’t say anything at first, rather you let him sit down on the couch your were napping on just a moment ago. Tyler kicks back, knowing it allows you to be more comfortable when sharing your thoughts and problems. 

 

“So, what’s up?”

 

“Uh, well, umm I don’t want to seem pathetic,” your voice trails off.

 

Tyler shakes his head, “Nothing you can say will make me think you are pathetic. Your problems are valid and deserve attention. So please, continue.”

 

Your voice starts out shaky.

 

“I was, uh, writing in my notebook, or, uh, at least trying to and I didn’t like anything I was writing. It was all stupid and gross and horrible and no one should ever read it ever. And I went on like that for a while, just writing and writing, not happy with it but still getting the thoughts out but then I started thinking about how amazing your writing is and then how crappy mine is in comparison. It really makes me feel useless because all I want in life is to be a writer and how can I when my writing sucks so much compared to yours? It just really started freaking me out and I tried to write through it but in the end I got really tired and gave up.So I took a nap. I’m really sorry I completely forgot about pizza and cards. Speaking of which, is Josh able to come tonight?”

 

Tyler quickly snaps in with an answer to your last question,“It’s unclear at the moment for Josh, it’s all about when he gets back from work. He doesn’t know if he’ll have to work overtime tonight or not.”

 

But otherwise, Tyler seems to take a minute to process the information you just fed him and think about the best way to address it. You know he’s very thoughtful with his words so he likes to take time when talking to you about certain things. Blurting out the wrong the wrong thing can do more damage than you know.

 

Finally, the words are ready to spill our of your mouth,“Well, don’t listen to yourself. You are an amazingly talented writer. Your poetry is so inspiring to me, I truly love it. And I promise I’m not just saying that. I truly enjoy the words you are able to produce. You have a gift, whether or not you believe that is a different story, but it’s true. I love you so much and I don’t ever want you to feel useless, especially on my account.”

 

Tyler pauses a moment. So do you. You just snuggle yourself further into your blanket and wait for him to say something else because you know it’s coming. 

 

“Did you slip up any? Anything you need to show me?”

 

Immediately, you shake your head. You’re very proud you can say that. 

 

“Good, I’m proud of you. It’s been what? Three or four months?”

 

“Three,” you provide. 

 

“God, I’m just so proud of you. I’m proud of your recovery and I’m proud of your writing and I’m proud of just about everything you do.”

 

A sneaky smile crawls up on your face as Tyler douses you in praise. For a minute, you just let yourself bask in the glory raining down from his mouth. It feels really nice. There aren’t any harmful thoughts, there’s not anything but an overwhelming sense of calm and joy in your head right now. 

 

“Thanks Tyler. I’m proud of you too, you’ve been doing so amazing lately as well. It’s so great to see the growth in your writing.”

 

He nods, then pulls you into a great big hug. For a minute, you allow yourself the luxury of getting lost in the warm embrace of one of your best friends. Tyler releases you from the hug and asks you if you’d mind showing him some of the poems your penned today. You’re abit reluctant, but Tyler is always the one to read it first. It just seems right. You grab the notebook from your writing space and set it down, opened to the first page from today, in his lap.

 

A couple of minutes and some flipped pages later, Tyler looks up with adoration on his face. 

 

“This is so amazing. I love it so much. You really are such a great writer, in fact, I think I might be jealous of you.”

 

You laugh at that before he continues along.

 

“Now, let’s put this writing nonsense aside and focus on what really matters, pizza. Who’s ordering tonight? Me or you?”

**Author's Note:**

> hello frens... I wrote this because I'm having a bit of a bad night which kind of went exactly like this. all I want to do in life is write but sometimes I think about how much I suck at novels and poetry and how I can never get my poetry to fit in a song like I want (I have written on song and I'm insanely proud of it but yeah). so yeah, this happened because I bet lots of other people really feel quite insignificant, especially when it comes to this fandom because Tyler is so fricking good at it, with writing. so I hope this helps.
> 
> also thanks a million for all the kudos and comments on the first part of this series that I posted last night... it made me feel so great.


End file.
